


Natta

by RainbowArches



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:36:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowArches/pseuds/RainbowArches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha is stranded in mission purgatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natta

1952, March

Lila Emanuel. Former informant. Rogue. Assignment. Quick, clean, the usual. _She has something of value to me. Find it._

11:12 pm. Farm house. Quiet, dark. Lights out ages ago. Work by moonlight. Living room- empty. Kitchen- behind her, the gun clicks. Freeze. Remember your training. Snap the neck. Quick, clean. No mess, no fuss.

_She has something of value to me_. Information. Letters; documents; negatives; reciepts; blueprints; tapes; soundbites; footage. Anything. Where? Chests; drawres; floorboards; cupboards; cushions; safes. Nothing. _Find it._

 

The bedroom. Under the bed- a shoebox. Cash. Cash? No.

What's that room? A nursery. A nursery? Quiet. Peaceful. Moonlit blue. The crib- a baby. Three months? Awake, calm, curious. Undisturbed. Unconcerned. Stupidly trusting.

_She has something of value to me._ The baby? Spy? Soldier? Assassin? Bargain? Son?

Baby, cradled in her arms, calm, content. Rocking chair, rhythmic, soothing, rock-a-bye baby, falling asleep.

Bedroom- a dresser, top right-hand drawer- birth certificate. Nicholas Joseph Emanuel, December 21, 1951. Assignment?

Lila Emanuel. African-American; 34; 5 ft. 4"; 110 lbs; unmarried; deceased.

 

Waiting. Big farm- too big. Help needed. Quick and clean? Waiting. Daybreak. Nothing. Leave.

　

Back-up plan- cabin. Basic, warm enough. Stove, bed, toilet. Hidden in the woods.

Nicholas whines. What's that smell?

Ugh. Diapers. Gross.

　

One week. Still here. Out of diapers, formula, wipes. Pack up the baby, go to town. People stare. Colours.

　

1952, June

Outside, a bear cub yowls, alone. Other predators live near by.

 

Nicholas naps. The father. Who is he? Her handler? An agent? Civilian? Where is he? She is not his mother. She is the predator. Where is his mother?

 

Mother bear collects her cub. Disappear together, back to the den.

 

Lila Emanuel cannot protect him anymore. She lives through wet paint on canvas, black and brown, beads in her hair, pink, green and blue, a spring house dress, deep purple. Alert, wary eyes, set mouth. Sharp, beautiful. A memory gift for her son.

 

Must she always be the predator?

 

 

Nicholas grows, his sight, his mind. Too small still, but soon. He inspires her. His mind's apetite must grow. Scenes appear, her hand transfers, canvas holds.

_The Woods. Home of trees; leaves crackle underfoot._

_Two Bears. Mother, the protector. Her cub, safe and sound._

_The Moon. Light in the night._

_The Cabin. Shelter against rain and snow._

_The Farm. Where food grows to feed the children._

She is not the mother, but she gives.

　

1952, November

The first snow. Why is she still here?

Go to town, stock up for the winter.

She must conserve the firewood.

She secrures the baby to her breast, sharing heat.

 

_Fire. Pretty wild thing that bites._

_Snow. Cold white quilt that glitters._

_Two Deer. A doe, watchful mother, and her fawn, young and fragile._

　

1952, December

A month of firsts.

First steps. He stumbles to the pictures on the wall, and stares, enraptured, all the colours.

First words. "Bear!" He loves the bears. "Natta! Bear!" He still struggles with her name. "Mama" is reserved for Lila's portrait.

First birthday. She cuts a baby blanket out of an old sheet and stitches bears into it.

First Christmas. She treats them to gingerbread.

　

1953, January

Silver glints in the distance. Caution, investigate. An arm, invulnerable. The cold, the wind, burns flesh blue. Is he for her? Not this, dying in the snow. No one so careless. He is not hers.

 

She will not battle the ice for him. She will not take over winter's works. She must return home. The baby is sleeping. He will not sleep forever. She will not make the cabin bigger.

 

Babies need toys; she has no time for mischief. She smoothes the splinters out of twenty-six blocks, paints them in primary colours and assigns them each a letter. Nicholas happily bashes them together. He builds clumsy towers. They tumble and he laughs.

She presents his name.

N I C H O L A S

"Nick-o-las."

"Nii-lih."

" _Nick_ -o-las."

"Nick-less."

 

B E A R

"Bear."

"Bear! Bear bear bear!"

 

B L O C K S

"Blocks."

"Bock."

"Buh-lock-ss."

'Loss. Nickiss! Lots! Bear! Natta, bear!"

 

B E A R

　

She startles awake. The dark has been intruded upon, the silence belongs to someone else. Her eyes begin to focus. Silver glints across the room.

They are both still. The dark recedes behind the cold-worn figure, any menace long since drained away.

Come daybreak he has fallen asleep. Queitly, cautiously, she prepares soup. She gives Nicholas his porridge. She lays a blanket on the stranger.

She gives him soup when he wakes up. Nicholas, unconcerned, stares curiously. The stranger presents him with a tambourine, two aluminum plates encasing loose popcorn cernels, with acorns decorating the rim. Nicholas is occupied all morning.

He doesn't speak. As long as he is not her comrad, she doesn't need him to.

 

He leaves before noon.

No one is coming for her. Why not? What happened? They must come for her. She will not go to them. Not with Nicholas. Why do they want him? Is he what they want? She will stay until she knows. As long as the baby is hers, she will stay.

But not in this cabin. Its location is known to outsiders now. She must move. Pack up the baby, the pictures, the toys. Find a new town, new strangers.

　

1953, May

She sells antiques. She lives above the shop. She bleaches her hair and paints freckles on her face. She wears domestic dresses. She has to keep Nicholas near by. Because of this, some people avoid her. Those who ask, he is adopted.

Who does she hide from? The town? Her employers? If she recieves instructions, will she take them?

 

The town is unofficially segregated. She does not participate. OPEN TO ALL. She does not have a lot of regulars.

Her favorite is an older black gentleman. He flirts benevolantly and gives Nicholas sweets. Some glare reproachfully and don't come back.

She loves her reputation here.

　

1953, August

The man with the silver arm reclines in her armchair. He is pale, sweaty, too sick to move. His foot is at the wrong angle. She will not be rid of him so soon this time, but he seems to only want to rest. Still, she doesn't put Nicholas down as she collects medicine and a wrap for his ankle. Her ears focus, alert for any sudden movement.

He is nodding off when she returns. She puts Nicholas down and wraps the man's ankle.

He picks up the tambourine and shakes it gently, louring Nicholas over. They play together, Nicholas grinning, until she spoons medicine down the man's throat and he falls asleep.

Nicholas pouts. She has to shake the tambourine at him for twenty minutes before he falls asleep.

　

The man doesn't know his name. He calls himself Carter- it's the name he heard most recently. He claims not to know much about himself, except that he is always running away.

Nicholas sits on his lap, playing with his arm. She watches from the kitchen where she scrambles eggs. He pulls a toy bus from his pocket for Nicholas. He drives it up and down Carter's chest.

She becomes comfortable with his presence, though she doesn't leave him alone with Nicholas on principle, and she locks her bedroom door.

She brings his fever down, she bathes him, she helps him around the apartment. He feeds Nicholas so she can eat sooner.

His foot is on the mend. Nicholas cries when he leaves.

　

1953, October

The shop is closed. She is sick, feverish. When she is asleep someone wails. She wakes up. Someone sings softly. He is back, walking around the room with Nicholas in his arms, lulling him to sleep.

He takes care of her now, feeding her soup and medicine, keeping her head cool, until she can open shop again.

On Halloween he leaves them a jack-o-lantern.

　

1954, February

He's back on Valentine's Day with chocolates. Nicholas digs into them with relish.

 "Canny! Natta, canny!"

"Lucky you."

 "Wassum?

"No thank you."

It occurs to her that they might be poisoned, but she doubts it. Nicholas gives Carter a chocolate and he eats it.

She doesn't ask questions. She doesn't ask what he runs away from, why he comes here. He doesn't ask either.

He looks tired, drained, but smiles at Nicholas as he smears chocolate all over them. She sits back as he happily cleans the boy up, changes his diaper, plays with him and puts him to bed.

He makes tea. They unwind.

"Thank you," he says, and leaves.

She gets the message.

Time to pack up.

　

1954, June

Mail- one plane ticket. Back to work.

Nicholas sleeps. Pack him up, his pictures, his toys, his blanket, his birth certificate. To the orphanage. Then, home.

　

1999, March

Nicholas Joseph Fury. It's in his face when he sees her. He doesn't say what he remembers or what he has learned, but she knows she is familiar to him.

She works for him now. Because she took care of him or because she abandoned him? Does he know he tried to kill her?

He doesn't mention it. He isn't angry. They become friends. He puts on paternal airs sometimes. Naturally or on purpose? She feels responsible for him still. Not maternal, motherly. But she doesn't let on.

　

2000, January

She is in his house for the first time. He has concussion. She is keeping an eye on him. In his living room there is a glass display cabinet. Inside she sees the pictures, in perfect condition. Lila Emanuel in the center.

　

2014, September

"Do I know that guy?"

She has a moment alone with him. He is fighting the painkillers to have this conversation.

 "Who?"

 "With the silver arm."

"Yes."

"How?"

"He changed your diapers and fed you chocolates." She doesn't want to have this conversation.

"Oh yeah. That's embarressing."

"His name is James Buchannan Barnes."

"Huh."

"Go to sleep, Nick."

　

They have tea in his apartment, before they meet Sam and Steve. She sifts through the pictures, pausing at the bears.

"Hold onto them for me?"

Natasha nods. She comes to Lila Emanuel, and feels sad. "You should be angry with me."

Nick is quiet. "Did you paint that?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm not angry."

He leaves her the key.

She traces a finger around Lila's face. She hopes she has repaid something.

 


End file.
